The Real Adventures of Lois and Clark
by nefertiri-oconnell
Summary: First part of a pos larger story, foprget all the series its from the whole beginning. Please let me know if u like it or if u don't just a review.. my first L&C story. :)


THE REAL ADVENTURES OF LOIS AND CLARK.  
  
CHAPTER 1.  
  
Part 1: Liar Liar.  
  
"In here." The guard – one of the two who had flanked her since Erskine Sanford had bidden her goodnight – motioned toward a door. "You will be given four hours to sleep. Inside there is a change of clothes and a place to bathe.  
  
"I'd rather be escorted to the exit." Lois Lane said entering the room as the door was opened.  
  
The guard shook his head. "Those aren't my orders."  
  
"No of course not." Lois nodded, entered and the door closed behind her. A spare cabin – a bed, a small table with a chair and another door with a bath beyond. Erskine really hadn't spared any comforts here. Well at least she had a bath. Lois guessed it was because he didn't want his most prized possession to be dirty and smelly.  
  
She surveyed her new room, looking under the bed, into the bathroom, under the desk and chair… and found no listening device. That didn't mean there wasn't one … it might be a sign Erskine's goons were neither clumsy nor stupid.  
  
Four hours. Too long and yet not long enough.  
  
Lois closed her eyes and listened to the sounds around her. She heard boots clanking on the ground and muffled voices. She heard it all, felt it then filed those sounds away so that if she heard anything different, she'd know it wasn't background noise to which she must pay attention.  
  
She tried to open the door. Locked. She felt the walls, their smooth coolness. A bleak prison. Gazing at the bed, Lois thought how badly she wanted to sleep. Her hand smoothed the soft blanket and she vowed she wouldn't sit. Sitting would give way to reclining, and reclining to sleeping, and the she would miss her only opportunity.  
  
If she acted now she might yet be able to get her story into the evening edition. She was alone for the first time since this began and that in itself as an advantage. Yes, maybe there was a guard outside and yes, there were guards between her and an exit. She didn't have a gun, no way of communicating. She didn't even have a club or anything that could be used as one.  
  
A full inspection of her small cell reaped a pillow, a length of cloth that was probably a towel, a change of clothes that were meant for her to use, and the thin grey blanket.  
  
She quickly peeled off her own clothes and put on the outfit that had been left for her. It was a very stylish grey trouser suit with a very form fitting white blouse. She could only guess why this particular outfit had been chosen. If she was going to escape she decided she would look less obvious in clean clothes.  
  
Her thoughts were rambling – she needed to focus.  
  
Almost anything can be a weapon; Lois eyed the bed maniacally. She plucked off the blanket and tossed the scrawny mattress to the floor.  
  
The beds metal frame had hinges, which allowed it to be folded for storage, it looked so uninviting and uncomfortable…  
  
Gripping the long support that ran the length of the bed from head to foot, Lois tested its strength. She placed the heel of her boot at the uppermost joint and kicked hard- once, twice, then again, until the long strut clattered away from the rest of the bed frame.  
  
Seizing the metal length with one hand to keep it from clanging against the floor, Lois flinched at the raucous noise she was making. The last thing she wanted was for the guard to come in.  
  
Not yet anyway!  
  
As she worked on the other end of the bed, and finally tore away the long staff of metal, Lois thought she heard a footfall in the corridor outside.  
  
She froze.  
  
Clank clank clank … boots on the floor outside. Walking past her cell. She waited until it was quiet again, then allowed herself to breathe.  
  
Glancing down she looked at her handiwork. It wasn't much – a long, metal staff. But it was better than bare hands.  
  
Now she had to wait.  
  
Eyes heavy with fatigue, she wished the lights were not so bright. She glared up at the blazing panels in the ceiling. If she could do something about those…  
  
"Lights off!"  
  
Nothing happened. She didn't expect it to. There was no switch she could see. Lois sat down her new weapon and stooped to pick up the thin blanket she'd tossed to the floor. She bit into the cloth about two inches from one side. Then tore down slowly, trying not to make a lot of noise.  
  
Of course if she was being monitored at all, the guards would have been all over her already. Maybe this was a makeshift cell, and security would be a little lax.  
  
Each slow tear sent a puff of cloth dust into the air. Toward the end of the rip, Lois had to separate the strip from the rest of the blanket. When she was done, and had bundled the long strip into one hand she picked up her weapon again and made sure her skin touch no part of the metal staff.  
  
Stepping back from directly underneath the overhead illumination Lois thrust her long bar into the light panel. The covering cracked and sparks showered down on her as the light flashed brightly, then faded. She jumped away, small sizzles of spark finding her bare skin.  
  
When her eyes adjusted, the Spartan cube of a cell was dim. Only small accent lights near the bottom of the bathroom door lit the room.  
  
She sank back against the wall near the main door and readied herself. Maybe she had four hours, or maybe she had mere minutes before a guard would be in to see why there was a disruption in the lighting.  
  
How did they expect her to sleep anyway?  
  
Maybe they didn't. Maybe they didn't care. Maybe Erskine's gang slept with their socks on. Did they wear socks?  
  
Her mind was spinning in too many directions. 'Focus, focus, focus' she told herself.  
  
She began rubbing the end of the metal staff against the floor. She might need it to have a sharper edge. How was she going to do this at all? Getting out of the cell might be easy compared with getting back to the planet. Might be? Would be.  
  
Minutes passed, and the only sound Lois heard was her own breathing mixed with the rhythmic grinding she was making on the floor.  
  
Seconds seemed to linger too long, minutes waited for then and so an hour passed long after it should have. Was time even passing?  
  
Yes… she spun the end of her weapon toward her and felt one edge with her thumb. Sharper… good. She angled her next round of grinding so that the "blade" would be evenly sharpened.  
  
Listening and waiting were not two of Lois' favourite activities. In her mind's eye she tried to remember her hand to hand and simple weapons skills.  
  
Eyelids heavy, she felt so much like sleeping… With her free hand she punched herself in the thigh. Her goal wasn't to do anything but get back to the planet, and get her story on the front page. She could just imagine Perry's face when she told him what story she had. It would show that Clark Kent who was top dog after all. She Los Lane would probably with a very prestigious award. The reporter who brought down Erskine Sanford.  
  
She rearranged her grip on the length of metal and continued grinding it against the floor. It would make a good weapon wouldn't it?  
  
She couldn't do anything if she fell asleep. The guard would come in, see her snoozing with the weapon… and then what?  
  
Strangely the longer she waited the easier it became to stay awake. She'd found a healthy pattern – widen her eyes, jab at her own leg, sharpen her weapon. When the rhythm of the motion seemed to border on hypnotic she reversed the sequence.  
  
Lois used this time to reflect on what had brought her to this position. It had all started this morning with that dumb hick from Nowheresville. Clark Kent! 


End file.
